


The Girl in the Marketplace

by OneMoreAltmer



Series: Dragon Age: Taniva Tabris [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 05:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14763411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneMoreAltmer/pseuds/OneMoreAltmer
Summary: Years after the end of the Blight, a little elven girl terrorizes the marketplace in Denerim. Her parents are insufficiently alarmed.





	The Girl in the Marketplace

“Tilani!”

The pale little girl slipped effortlessly out from amongst her accusers and ran to the outreached hand of the adult elf who had called her.  He was blond like her but darker of complexion, and his cheekbone was traced on one side by two long blue marks – exotic, and not in the style of the Dalish, either.

He was also armed, which Captain Revan found instantly unsettling.  So, likely not an Alienage elf either, at least not one who knew what was good for him.  And something in the way he moved, and even more in the canny glare with which he looked back the way the girl had come, told Revan that the weapons would be well-used.  It was going to be hard to keep this situation under control.

The girl settled confidently against the adult’s leg and into the embrace of his left arm as Revan approached them.  “Are you responsible for this girl?” he asked.

The elf lifted his chin, clearly unimpressed by Revan’s authority.  “Yes.  I am her father.  Is there some sort of problem?”  His voice was accented, perhaps Antivan.

Before Revan could make any civil overtures, however, Ser Orland’s brat ran up behind him, shouting his accusations.  “She beat me with a stick!  Arrest her!”

And now Ser Orland himself was coming to see what was happening with his son.  Simply marvelous.

“I am Captain Revan,” he sighed, still hoping that showing a little decency might help smooth this over.  “Your daughter’s name is Tilani, I take it.  May I ask yours?”

“Zevran.”  With that, the elf took what was meant to look like a more casual stance, but Revan had seen enough fights to know that it really wasn’t.  He was ready to leap between his daughter and any real or imagined threat, be it from Revan, Orland, or the boy.

Revan looked back at the spoiled whelp – _no, no, be civil_ – at Nilam.  He looked a good two years older and a foot taller than the elven girl:  of course, elves ran smaller by nature, so he might be misreading the difference in age.  Nilam was thick, brawny, and used to having his way.

“What is all this about, Revan?” Ser Orland’s voice drawled.  “Trouble with elves?”

Zevran sneered in a dangerous looking way.  “Yes, well.  You know how elves are.”

“Make him arrest her, Father,” Nilam whined.  “She beat me with a stick!”

“I see,” said Ser Orland, with an indignant look that so often seemed to attend men of privilege.  “Perhaps,” he said to the elves in a clipped tone, “you are Dalish savages, unaccustomed to civilized laws?  We do not attack our betters with sticks.”

The girl did not share her father’s accent, but she was no less bold in her disregard.  “He is not our better, and I did not attack him.  And Daddy’s marks aren’t even Dalish, so you are wrong on every count.”

The corners of Zevran’s mouth quirked upward.  Ser Orland was turning bright red, and Revan might have laughed had he not been mortified at how likely this was to turn violent.  “Indeed,” said Ser Orland, addressing himself now directly to the girl.  “Then I would be interested to know where it was that you learned to be so insolent.”

“From her father, I’m afraid,” said Zevran, in a tone that implied something quite else than fear.  “Although I am not convinced you would like her mother much better.”

“Antivan.  I see.  Then perhaps you are an escaped slave with an excessive sense of his new freedom.  Teach your kitten her place before someone declaws her.  I am human and a knight of Denerim.  I protected this land against the Blight.  Make an enemy of me at your peril.”

Zevran raised his brows, looking maliciously playful.  “Oh, you fought the Blight!  That is very impressive.  Did you get to see the Archdemon?”

The girl looked up at her father, eyes glimmering with delight.  “ _Please_ let me tell him, Daddy.”

He looked down at her adoringly and stroked her hair.  “Ah, they do not want to hear stories about me.  They want to hear about you and the stick, I think.”

_Thank you,_ Revan mouthed at him silently.

“Go on, Tilani,” Zevran urged.

Tilani sighed as if this discussion was a tedious chore.  “He started it.  I was in front of him at the merchant’s, and he shoved me – ”

“I didn’t!” Nilam cried.  “She was in my way!”

“Which is it?” she sneered.  “You didn’t, or I was in your way?  You lie as well as you fight.”

“Captain Revan,” said Ser Orland in a clipped, hostile tone.  “Just how much of this outrageous behavior are you going to allow?”

Revan tensed, pulled himself up straight, and looked down sternly at the stubborn girl.  “Now, here.  Just finish telling us what happened, so we can get this straightened out.  Getting into another fight with all of us standing right here doesn’t help either of you, does it?”

“I told him not to push, and he said, I’ll do what I like, _knife-ears._ ”  She paused to look at Revan thoughtfully.  “Why is that what people call us?  They can’t cut anything.  Knives cut.”

He suppressed his smile.  “Is that why it bothered you?  Because it didn’t make sense?”

“Well, I know it’s rude.  There’s no call to be rude just because someone is in front of you at the market.  I don’t call you people _shem,_ like Auntie does.”

Zevran squeezed her shoulders.  “Ah, they don’t want to hear about your Auntie, either.”

“Anyway.  I said really, and he said yes, he was a knight’s son right here in Denerim, and I said I didn’t care, and he said I should, and I said if he was a proper knight’s son then instead of just shoving and shouting rude names he should challenge me to a duel.  And he said, challenge a knife-eared girl to a duel?  And I said yes, and then he did, and we went into the alley over there.”  She pointed.  “All we had were sticks.  I’m not allowed to carry daggers in town yet.”

The story to that point had been amusing, but at that last part, Revan felt his eyes go round. 

“Do you think that’s the right decision?” Zevran interjected.  “I mean, I don’t know whether you have any children, Captain, but a father has to think about these things.  She is getting old enough to run off on her own, and you know the streets in Denerim, do you not?  I have to consider her safety.”  He sighed.  “I will have to think about it soon.  They grow up so quickly.”

“He’d have a dozen if he could,” a woman’s voice said from behind them, and Revan turned.  She’d come up on them quietly, a dark-haired elven woman with an infant strapped to her chest and daggers to her back.  She regarded them with an easy smile – a lovely but unsettling face, a flower made out of steel.  “But I fear that’s not the way I was made.”

“Only because it takes extra time to make them as perfect as you are,” Zevran grinned.  “This, Captain, is Tilani’s mother.  My dear Warden, our firstborn has had another duel with a local, it seems.”

_My dear Warden_ was an odd term of affection, Revan thought, but it seemed to please her.  “My name is Taniva,” she told him.  “You are here because she won, I assume.”

It was the last straw for Ser Ormond, who wheeled about and scowled at her.  “He is here because your child assaulted a human boy out in plain daylight in the middle of the marketplace!”

Tilani was still unmoved.  “He.  Started.  It.”

“Did you, Nilam?” Revan asked.  “The truth, now.  Remember that special talk we had in Wonders of Thedas.”

Nilam turned white as his father snapped out of his rant and looked down at him, confused.  “Special talk?  What happened in Wonders of Thedas?”

“It’s true,” the boy said quietly.  “About the duel, I mean.  I had a stick too.  She won fair and square.  I was just angry.”

Ser Ormond closed his eyes and brought a hand up to his forehead as if an ache was coming on.  “Ah.”

Oh, thank the Maker, perhaps this wouldn’t turn into a race riot after all.  Revan took a deep breath.  “Well, then!  It seems to me that both of you should have known better than to fight in the street with sticks, yes?  I don’t see the point in arresting children.  I will release you into the custody of your parents with warnings for now.”

He looked around at the adults, praying for acquiescence.  The elves smiled in easy agreement, and after a moment, Ser Ormond gave a curt nod.

“Thank you for being so patient,” Taniva said, waving her family off toward the gate to the Alienage before she turned to join them.

“You’re welcome, miss.  Lovely children.  Is that one a boy or a girl?”

“A boy,” she murmured.  “Alistair.”

She and Zevran joined hands as they walked away, and Revan could still hear them talking for a moment.  “I wish I could have explained to them how _funny_ that was.”  “You can tell Shianni the story.  She’ll think it’s hysterical.”

Ser Ormond, meanwhile, was muttering at his child and fumbling around his belt.  “Right.  If you’re being beaten by little elven girls, we’re hiring a different trainer while we’re out.  If I can – damn, did I leave my coinpurse somewhere?”

**Author's Note:**

> Why doesn't the guard recognize the Arl of Amaranthine and her family, frequent visitors to Denerim? Because this story was written before Dragon Age: Awakening came out, so the author has no idea that's in their future! As for tiny Alistair, I have it on good authority that he was snatched up at an orphanage somewhere along their travels.


End file.
